Splendor
by NevermindNirvana
Summary: UPDATED! Some old "friends" come back to mess with Tate. Also, someone has a crush on Frances. Rated M for violence, language and very mild squick.
1. Where Did You Sleep Last Night

**Disclaimer: **_**American Horror Story**_** belongs to Ryan Murphy and FX. The song lyrics belong to Leadbelly and/or Nirvana. I only own Frances Langdon.**

Violet smiled as she held the squirming bundle in her arms. She was exhausted yet ecstatic. She was reclined back on the bed, looking down at her child. Tate sat on the bed beside her, smiling.

"Hey there, Frances…" Tate wiggled his finger at the baby. Frances gazed up at him. "Hey….look. She knows her name!"

Violet giggled and Tate leaned over to kiss her. "You did a great job, Vi." Tate took the baby from her, and gazed down into her brown eyes. Frances was simply amazing. The perfect mix of her parents. Violet sighed and yawned, she was worn out from labor.

"Tate…could you put Frances down? I'm tired…so tired." Violet rolled over on her side. Tate patted Violet's head and grinned.

Tate got up and walked into the hallway to Frances' nursery. The baby had stopped squirming and was totally sedate in her father's arms. Tate stepped inside the dark nursery and shut the door.

"Hey baby…Welcome into the world, I guess. It's not….much of a world in here." Tate whispered to Frances. "Frances, as your father, I'd like you to know that I've done some things I'm not proud of. We're trapped here, honey. It's all my fault. But I love you and your mommy very much…" He stopped and looked up at the Mannerist paintings that hung on the nursery walls. He gulped.

"I hope that one day you can forgive me for my mistakes, sweetheart…" Tate kissed Frances' cheek and laid her in her crib. "Night-night, Franny. I love you."

Tate slowly walked out of the nursery and ever so quietly shut the door behind him. He didn't want to awaken any evil that still may remain in Murder House.

He then went to join Violet in sleep.

* * *

><p>At midnight the clock struck twelve times. Frances kept on sleeping contently. Wind rattled the windows. The infant hardly moved. The door creaked open. She remained unmoved.<p>

Shadows surrounded the crib. A pair of hands gently picked her up. Frances awoke.

"Hello, sweetie…" a voice hissed. The voice belonged to a girl, a young woman. She gently rocked the child in her arms and grinned. "Look at her guys. Ain't she something?", the girl laughed, a sick, twisted laugh.

"We aren't gonna hurt you, Franny. Not yet, anyway." a blonde girl stood next to the one holding Frances. In all, there were six people in the nursery. "Can we hurt her now, Chloe?" "I don't think we should…" a tall boy shook his head in disagreement. His hair was long and stringy. "C'mon, she's a baby." Frances began to whimper.

"Shut _up_, Kevin. You're an asshole." Chloe spat. Kevin nodded and touched Frances' head. "We can't go easy on her. But we're not here to do anything tonight…."

Steph and Amir nodded in agreement. "He took our lives…it's best we make him suffer…" Steph whispered.

"Shouldn't we just go after Tate?" Kyle Greenwell, the jock, was trying to figure their chain of logic. Jawless Amir just shrugged.

"We're not goin' after him and his bitch tonight!" Chloe hissed. Frances began to cry. Chloe smiled. "Awww, poor baby! Chloe's sorry…" She stroked Frances' cheek, and her jagged nail caught the fragile baby skin. A small cresent of blood appeared on Frances' left cheek. Chloe stuck her finger into her mouth to taste the drop of the child's blood on her nail. "Mmm…"

Chloe laid Frances back down in her crib. "Thanks, baby. We're gonna leave now. We'll be back soon. I _promise_."

Chloe and the rest of the Westfield ghosts slipped back into the night.

Tate was awoken by Frances' howls. He jolted upright and scrambled into the nursery, throwing the door open. Something was echoing in his head. A voice not his own. He picked up Frances and held her close.

"It's okay, baby. Daddy's here, Daddy's here….shhh…." Tate bit his lip as Frances continued to cry. Tate looked at her closely, and saw the cut on her cheek. _Did I do this…? Oh, no…._Tate shuddered as he clung to the baby. He took Frances and went back to his and Violet's bedroom.

* * *

><p>"Vi…Violet." Tate shook Violet awake. He felt tears coming, but held them back.<p>

"What, Tate…" Violet groaned and turned over to see Tate on the verge of tears holding a whimpering Frances. "Wha-what happened?"

"I'm a bad father already…" Tate hung his head in defeat and shoved the baby in Violet's arms. "I scratched her….I didn't mean to. I'm sorry…" Tate said. Violet gave him a look.

"Tate, calm down. I'm sure you didn't do it on purpose. Maybe it was a nail loose in the crib…" Violet rocked Frances in her arms. The baby had now ceased crying. "See? She's just fine."

"But Vi, I heard something. In my head…Laughing…" Tate finally began to cry. Violet set Frances on her stomach and wrapped an arm around Tate, pulling him close to her.

"You're fine, Tate. You're just worked up over being a new dad is all." _There I go again, sounding like Dad…_

"Franny's gonna be fine?" Tate asked.

Violet nodded. "I'm sure she will." Violet picked Frances up and kissed the wounded cheek. Tate smiled, then began to cry again. "Oh, Tate…Tate. It's not your fault. Stop it."

Tate reached for the baby and held her close. "Daddy's gonna be okay, Frances…." He whispered and patted the baby's head. Frances yawned. Tate inhaled his breath, and began to sing in a low, hushed voice: _My girl, my girl, don't lie to me…Tell me where did you sleep last night? In the pines, in the pines, where the sun don't never shine, I will shiver the whole night through…._

"Tate." said Violet. "That song…"

Tate kept on singing, rocking Frances. _My girl, my girl, where will you go? I'm going where the cold wind blows….._

Violet shivered. "That song's so creepy…."

"I like creepy. Heh. Violet, will she forgive me?"

"Of course she will. She loves her daddy…"

Tate grinned. "It worked. She's sleeping now. Can she sleep with us tonight, Vi? I don't feel good about her sleeping alone tonight…"

"She already is." Violet whispered. She stroked her husband's head. "Tate?"

Tate looked at her. "What?"

"You're safe, Tate. You have me, Frances. No ones going to hurt you…" Violet pulled Tate close to her. "You're going to be fine…" Violet began undoing the buttons on her antique nightgown.

"Hmmm. Violet…" Tate moaned softly as he pressed his cheek against the warm skin. She was right. He had his family. He was safe for now. He opened his mouth. "Mmmm…."

**A/N: I'd like to thank my darling BFF Amber for helping me on this fic….I love her and every single Violate shipper out there! Also, I really don't care if I get bad reviews. At least it's better than none.**


	2. Sliver

**I don't own **_**AHS**_** or "Sliver". They belong to FX/Ryan Murphy, and Geffen, respectively. Also, in this story, Addie never got hit by that car. She's alive and well, helping her mother care for Michael.**

* * *

><p>Violet and Tate stood beside the kitchen table in Constance's house. Violet was leaned up against the kitchen counter, rocking Frances in her little baby seat. Tate looked at them both and smiled. Constance shook her head disapprovingly.<p>

"That's my grandchild?" said Constance as she lit a cigarette. Tate nodded. "Great. Now I have to put up with another little terror…" the middle-aged woman sighed in exasperation and took a puff of her Newport menthol.

"Constance, could you not smoke in front of Frances? Please?" Violet asked her mother-in-law.

"She's awesome. Frances is…amazing." Tate said, grin still glued on his face.

"What? I've been smoking since before any of you were born. Look, Tate turned out fine." Constance replied to Violet's question. Addie Langdon looked at her mother and shook her head. "Plus, you two smoke."

"Yes, but not in front of the-"

"Mom, can I hold the baby?" Addie asked. She was trying her best to avoid conflict in her family. She stood up from the kitchen chair and went over to the counter.

"It's your brother's baby. Ask him." Constance sighed. Addie grinned and gently lifted Frances out of her baby seat. She held her niece and giggled.

"She's so pretty, Violet!" Addie exclaimed. "She looks just like you and Tate!" Addie held Frances tighter. Frances began to squirm. Tate reached up to touch Addie's shoulder, as if to say _easy now. _Addie noticed this and loosened her grip. She then saw the healed cut on the baby's cheek. "Oh! What happened here, baby…?"

Tate's eyes widened and he gulped nervously. _'Oh no, oh no….'_

"Ummm…it was an accident. I…I kind of…oh god…" Tate stammered, trying to find the right words. He bit his lip. Violet put her hand on Tate's. Tate looked at her. Constance looked startled.

"There was a nail loose in the crib. Tate was the one putting it together, and a nail had gotten loose. Everything's fine." Violet said. Tate sighed in relief.

_But you know that's not true, Vi._

Addie sat Frances in her father's arms. Tate cuddled the baby close to him.

"You know I'm trying to be a good father, Constance. No need to look so startled…" Tate shot his mother a glare. "You know I'd never hurt Frances…"

Constance stubbed out her cigarette.

"You said you wouldn't do a lot of things, Tate."

Tate growled. Violet and Addie looked at each other in uncertainty.

* * *

><p>Seven-year-old Michael Langdon sat at the bottom of the stairs, listening closely to the conversations of his family in the kitchen. He stood up and walked to the kitchen. He stood in the threshold and looked upon the scene. It reeked with scent of pseudo-calmness. Michael may have been young, but he could sense the instability.<p>

"Hi." he said in a soft voice. He looked at each one, awaiting a reply.

"Oh, hi Michael!" Violet said. "Come over here. Wanna see your new cousin?" Tate glared at his wife. Michael nodded, looking to Constance for approval.

"Go on, play with the little brat." Constance had lit another cigarette and was puffing away on it. Michael smiled and reached into his pocket. Something was in there….

"Thank you, Mama!" Michael squealed with glee as Violet set Frances' seat on the floor. 'Hi baby, hi baby…" Tate looked at the boy, a murderous glint in his eye.

"He's cute, Tate." Violet said. Tate twisted his fingers into a few locks of Violet's hair and pulled. "Oww.."

"We'll talk about this later, Vi." He growled. Violet shuddered as he released her hair. "That kid is nothing bu-"

Tate was unable to finish his sentence because Addie had shrieked in terror.

Michael had dropped a black widow spider onto Frances. The spider was now crawling around on her dress and arms. Violet gasped and pulled Frances from her seat, the spider fell off the child, and onto the ground. Frances began to cry.

"It's alright, honey…" Violet swayed slowly with the baby in her arms. "Mommy's here…shh…"

Michael picked up the black widow off the floor and giggled. Addie's eyes were still wide with shock. Constance remained unmoved. Michael looked at Tate and grinned.

Tate grabbed hold of Michael and pulled him into the living room. Teeth barred, he grabbed Michael's shoulders and shook hard.

"You have no right-" he growled. "You have no right to touch my child!" Michael laughed at him. "I don't _ever_ want to see you touch my child again! Don't you even come near her!" he roared. Michael stuck his tongue out at Tate, as if to mock him. Without thinking, Tate pulled his hand back and struck the boy hard across the face. Michael shrieked as Tate smacked him again.

"You little bastard! I should kill you…" Tate's rage suddenly turned to a psychotic glee." Yeah….I'm gonna kill you. You touch Frances again, you hurt me, or my wife…I'm going to kill you. Do you understand me, you little bitch?" Tate loosened his grip on Michael, and the boy fell on his knees. He began to cry.

Suddenly, Constance scooped up Michael in her arms. "How _dare_ you! You ungrateful monster! Don't ever touch my boy again!" she screeched.

"M-mama…" Michael let out a pitiful whimpering sound. Tate made a grab for the boy, but Violet pulled him back before he could get to him. She'd watched the whole thing. Constance, still fuming, beckoned her daughter into the living room.

"Adelaide, take Michael up to the bathroom and clean him up." the older woman ordered. Addie took the boy, but didn't move. "Are you deaf? I said-"

"Mom, Tate had good reason…." Addie cast her brother an understanding look. Tate inhaled and held his breath. Both Violet and he didn't dare to move.

"You do as I say, Adelaide! And you-" Constance turned her stony gaze on her son. "Get out."

Violet took a step towards her.

"Constance, please…."

"I said _get out!_" Constance bellowed. "Get out of my house! Don't any of you dare set foot in here again!"

Violet grabbed her daughter and pulled Tate out the front door. Tate kept his eyes fixated on Michael's grin. _I'll destroy you one day…._

* * *

><p>Violet slammed the side door shut and set Frances down on the floor. She's totally forgotten the baby seat back at Constance's. Tate was down on his knees, his body quivering a tad. Violet knelt down beside him.<p>

"Tate?" she whispered. Tate didn't look at her, but a grin had overtook his face. "Tate, what's…?"

He finally looked at her, but grabbed Frances. "What happened?"

Tate stroked Frances' cheek. He started to whisper something, his voice was raspy. "Mom and Dad went to a show, dropped me off with Grandpa Joe…" He began to sway around and Frances giggled. "Kicked and screamed, said '_please! Don't go….!"_ Tate began to spin around, rocking Frances and singing louder. "Grandma take me home, Grandma take me home, Grandma take me home, I wanna be alone!"

"Stop it, Tate!" Violet grabbed his shirt, but Tate pulled away. "You're gonna hurt her!" Tate's grin became one of macabre glee as his "dancing" got faster and more erratic. Frances shrieked and giggled with glee. He swung himself around and let out a bloodcurdling scream.

"Grandma take me home, _I WANNA BE AAAALOOOONEEEE!"_ He toppled to the floor, exhausted. Frances lay on his chest, still giggling. Violet immediately pulled their baby off him and set her on the carpet beside her.

"Tate, what the fuck has gotten into you?" She asked as she helped Tate up on his feet. "You're acting…God, what's wrong with you?"

"Vi….I'd die again before I let someone hurt my baby, our baby. You saw what he did…" Tate's words came out in gasps. "I'll kill him if he touches her again."

"Tate, he's a kid…" Violet reminded him.

"I'll kill him. And I'll kill that bitch if she _ever_ hurts Frances!" Tate hissed. Tears were welling up in his eyes. Violet looked him in the eye.

"Tate. Michael is your child-"

Without warning, Tate lifted his hand up and smacked Violet hard across the face. She fell on the floor. "That's not true, Violet! It's not!" Violet put her hand up to her face and stroked her burning cheek. Tate blinked and dropped to his knees. "He's not real, Vi…_Frances_ is real. She's our baby. A bit of me, and a bit of you…" he buried his face in Violet's shoulder and began to sob.

"You saw what he did, Vi…"

"I did." Violet patted his head, trying to soothe him.

"I never had a mother…" Tate whispered.

"I know, I know." Violet said as she kissed the top of his head.

"My baby, our baby…" He stole a look at Frances, she was dozing on the carpet. He smiled through his tears. "I'm so sorry, Violet." He put his face up to Violet's and kissed her, stroking the cheek he had hit.

"Don't be sorry, Tate. We're gonna fix this. We're gonna be good parents…" Violet kissed him back and wrapped her arms around her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So, chapter two has come to an end. I realize I've kinda messed up by making Addie alive again, eh? Comments will be appreciated. Flames will be appreciated and deleted. Third chapter will come, I promise.**


	3. Back to the Cave

**I do not own _American Horror __Story_. I only own Frances Langdon.  
><strong>**G****uys I am so sorry for not updating since February! I'd been really busy with classes, my boyfriend, and finals, so I hadn't had much of a chance to update. But now it's summer, so I hope to get a good bit of this fic done before classes start again. If you're reading this, thanks for being loyal.**

The warm glow of the furnace gave the dank, musty basement an almost cave-like look. The shadows that were cast upon the walls did a macabre dance of death.

"Please…let me go. _Please_." A man hung from the top rafters of the ceiling, rope wrapped around his waist and tying his hands together. His captor, fitted in black latex, said nothing and continued to torture him. Tate smiled behind the fitted mask as he plunged his knife repeatedly into the man's stomach; just his luck that a solicitor had come a little too close. A nice amount of blood flowed out of the wound.

Frances sat near the bottom of the stairs, studying this ritual with concentration. The little girl studied the way her father moved, the points of the body that the knife hit.

"Baby, pay very close attention, now." Tate unzipped the mask and threw it down. The victim did not seem to acknowledge Tate, because he was drifting in and out of consciousness. Frances grinned as Tate grabbed a pair of scissors that were hanging on the wall. "This'll be the fun part!"

"You…you…." the man managed to say through his pain. Tate cut the bindings on the man's hands and grasped a wrist.

"What am I? A monster? A pig? Tell me." Tate asked in a singsong voice as he brought the open scissors to a fingertip. "Aww, c'mon."

_Snip_ went the first joint under the nail.

_Snap_ went the second.

The man let out a blood-curdling scream. Frances squealed and giggled with joy. Tate winked at her and resumed hacking the man's fingers off. When nothing was left but stumps, Tate dropped the scissors and decided to finish him off quickly, with a cut in the jugular vein.

"Daddy!" Frances called as Tate walked over to her and picked her up.

"What is it, sweetie?" he asked.

"I know what you are. You're a superhero. Superheroes wear costumes and masks and kill people. It works! You're a superhero!"

Tate shook his head and chuckled. _Ah, kids…._

* * *

><p>Upstairs, Violet had just gotten off the phone with Constance. She'd be dropping by with some clothes she and Addie had bought for Frances, and Violet thought it would be better off to tell him than just to show up and him fuming later.<p>

"Tate! Your mother's coming over!" she called. "Tate!" she walked from the living room and through the hallway, then the scent of blood caught her nostrils. She followed the scent down to the basement. Her eyes widened at the scene she witnessed.

"Alright, Franny, just gentle stabs…There ya go, good girl!" Tate cheered Frances on as she jabbed the rusty blood-covered scissors into the dead man's eyeball.

"Tate! What the hell are you doing?" she yelled. Frances dropped the scissors and Tate set her down.

"We were just practicing…" Tate mumbled. "I wanna make sure she's good as me one day."

"Sorry, Mommy." Frances whispered, casting her eyes downward as she spoke.

Violet sighed and took Frances in her arms.

"She's only three, she doesn't even need to see this yet! I-I'm not gonna ask how this happened, oh god…" Violet paced back and forth as she spoke. Frances squirmed in her arms, Violet set her down. "Constance is supposed to be coming over in a while, and…Tate, Jesus…"

"She thinks I'm a superhero, Vi! A vigilante, somebody cool! Little kids like superheroes." Tate had effectively channeled out Violet's last few words.

"I don't care. Wh-what are we gonna do with this?" she pointed at the corpse of the salesman. Tate shrugged and put his arms around Violet. Frances had apperantly fled upstairs to go have fun tearing her dolls to shreds. Tate grinned and pressed himself close to Violet, licking his lips. He gazed up at the corpse, picked up the rusted scissors off the floor, and cut the ropes. The still-warm body fell beside him, limbs askew.

"Y'know what we should do with this?" He asked, pressing his mouth to Violet's ear. Violet winced, and he moved his mouth down her jaw line and down to her neck, flicking his tongue against her jugular. "We should eat it…"

"Oh, no…" Violet tried to pull away from him, but that only made him get closer. "God, it's like that _Hills Have Eyes_ guy…" she groaned. Tate kissed her mouth, his tongue forced it's way between her teeth to suck on Vi's own.

"Exactly." He whispered. "Exactly. Just like him."

Violet had stopped squirming, but did not respond to Tate's probing and rough caresses. Tate let go of her and stuck his hand into the gaping wound in the man's stomach, coating his latex-covered hand with blood. He brought his hand up to Violet's face, smearing her cheek with blood. Violet gulped as Tate put a finger to her mouth, and she obediently took it in, sucking the blood off. Her eyes widened as she realized she enjoyed the metallic taste.

She kissed him gently as Tate brought his hands to her stomach and pushed them up her blouse to squeeze her breasts in a rough manner. Her breasts were now smeared with blood, and Tate tugged the rest of the blouse off of her body. Violet whimpered as Tate's other hand fumbled with the front of her jeans, undoing the button and nearly breaking the zipper in an attempt to pull them down along with her panties. Tate's mouth darted to her breast, he licked the blood off like how a dog would lick a bone. He ran his other hand down the blonde triangle between her legs.

"I've never felt anything like this." Violet whispered. She had finally begun to enjoy the power Tate held over her.

"That's my good girl…" growled Tate in response as he pushed Violet onto the dead man's body. Violet kissed him with as much ferocity as Tate had kissed her. She pulled Tate's member free of it's confines in the rubber suit and coated it with a bit of blood. Tate positioned himself and thrust inside of her, groaning in pleasure. They kiss until their mouths are sore and their lips bleed as they made violent, tearing love.

Tate was glad Violet's primal instincts had finally been awakened. This was what he had hoped for all along.

* * *

><p>Tate held Frances in his lap, spooning a mixture of cooked flesh and blood into her mouth. Frances pulled her head away and pursed her lips. The body in the basement had been dismembered and roasted with various accompaniments and seasonings. What they could not eat now would be put in the freezer for later consumption. The countertop was almost covered in blood, and many little streaks of blood ran down the sides and onto the floor.<p>

"Tate, she probably doesn't like it." Violet stood beside him, patting her daughter's head. "Don't force her…"

"I'm not! C'mon, Franny…open up…" Tate poked the spoon to her lips. "See? I like it." he opened his own mouth and ate the 'meat', chewing and swallowing it. "Yum."

Frances looked up at her father and cocked her eyebrow.

"Well, she may like it after all. It isn't medicine, honey. Open. _Aahh…." _Violet stuck her tongue out. Frances giggled, and Tate took the opportunity to shove another spoonful into her mouth. Frances chewed it and swallowed. Tate's eyes lit up with hope.

"How is it?" Tate's anticipation was so great, his voice nearly cracked. Frances looked up at him.

"It's yummy…" she replied, nodding her head with approval.

Tate hugged his daughter, filled with happiness. But that soon dissipated as the side door swung open. It was Constance, arms filled with boutique bags, Michael in tow.

"Sorry I'm late! Addie wanted to go to the movies, I dropped her off and then I decided to grab my darling Michael some ice cre-" Constance's eyes fixed on the gory sight and she stopped dead in her tracks, dropping the bags. "Oh my god! What in the lord's name…Tate! What have you done?" she shrieked. Michael winced and felt a tingling in his nose, he pinched it to extinguish the sensation. Tate shrugged and picked up one of the severed fingers, giving her a silent offering.

"Heh, Vi asked me that this morning." He grinned as he saw the disgusted look on Constance's face.

"Hi, Mikey…" Frances whispered, holding her hand out to the older child.

Constance leaned on the door to keep from fainting.

"You disgusting monster." she said in a flat tone. "And the child…?"

Tate nodded, and put the uneaten finger into Frances' mouth. She clamped her teeth down on the unexpected surprise. "Oh god…I must get going, Violet, the clothes are…here. Come along, Michael. Mother needs a good, stiff drink…" Constance turned around and began back on her way to her house.

Michael stayed behind for a second, staring at his fingers. Bright red blood smeared his fingertips and trickled down to his upper lip. Frances giggled and clapped her hands together. Michael put his hand back over his mouth and smiled_._

__**There you have it, chapter three is here! This was inspired by Lita Ford's song "Back to the Cave", and the tale of sixteenth-century Scots cannibal Sawney Beane, who like Violet said, inspired Wes Craven's _Hills Have Eyes. _Also, **Michael is ten going on eleven in this chapter. **Reviews, even flames, will be appreciated. **


	4. Awful

**This whole disclaimer is getting redundant. I own Frances only. The lyrics to "Awful" belong to Ms. Courtney Love, sadly.**

Violet crouched underneath the stairwell, running her fingers over the dirt that made up a small area of the basement. She smiled and stared at the makeshift grave marker, a poorly built wooden cross. _They are buried here._ Ben, Vivien, what remained of Violet's body, and baby Jeffery. She'd come down here to pay her yearly respects. It had been seven years since they had crossed over; Violet had stayed behind because of Tate.

"Hey Mom, Dad, Jeffy…I'm doing well, Tate's doing good, he's still the same, still loves me. We're doing fine; Frances is great, she's really wonderful, I wish all of you could see her…" Violet but down on her lip. "I'm happy for the most part. Sometimes it's hard living with Tate, but I manage." She reached out and touched the marker, running her hand across it carefully to avoid any splinters.

"I know that you all are doing well where you are. Maybe one day I'll be able to join you." The feeling of the rough bark against Violet's fingers helped her suppress any tears she may have felt coming on. "Well, I'm going to go now. I love you, goodbye."

She then heard laughter. It was too deep to be coming from Tate or Frances, and besides, they were upstairs playing in the living room. She looked around, but no one was there.

Violet started to get on her feet, but suddenly her legs gave out and she was down on her knees. She felt a shockwave of cold enter her body. This seemed impossible, because the basement furnace was almost always on, and lack of air conditioning kept it warm. Everything around her felt like ice. The laughing continued as Violet pressed her back up against the wall. She could feel someone, _something _pressing against her. She once again tried to move, but it was futile. She squeezed her eyes shut. A voice whispered her name. _Violet, Violet…_She whimpered as she felt an icy claw move up her skirt. The laughter became louder and louder, the whispers seemed to run on and on until they became meaningless.

"Stop. _Stop_." She said. "_Go away, go away!_" Violet opened her eyes and gasped for breath, her heart pounding. She was now able to move, but panic prevented her from doing so. She turned her head and saw Tate coming down the stairs, carrying Frances.

"Vi, are you alright?" Tate asked. Violet didn't know how to respond. "Baby, what happened?"

"Mommy?" Frances squirmed a little and extended her hand, trying her best to offer consolation and pat her mother's head.

"I-I'm fine…Tate, help me up, please." With this, Tate shifted Frances up onto his shoulder and helped Violet back on her feet, holding her steady. "Thanks."

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" Tate asked once again. He set Frances down, and she hugged her mother's legs.

"I just may have had a panic attack, no big deal. I went to say hello to my parents, today was the day my mother…" Violet sighed, she didn't want to remind herself. "And then something happened, I don't know what. I'm fine…"

Tate stroked Violet's head. "You're gonna be fine, baby. No one's going to harm you, I promise. Not while you have me." He kissed her forehead, making Violet smile. "But, I'm sorry to have to tell you this…."

"Oh? What happened?" Violet asked, picking up Frances and making her way up from the basement. Tate followed right behind her.

"Addie called. She wanted us to come to Michael's birthday party." Tate said flatly. "Vi, can't I just stay home? You know how I feel about that bra-"

"Frances, you go on over to Grandma's, okay? Daddy and I need to have a little talk." She put the four-year-old down and watched as she made her way out the door and onto Constance's. "Now." She turned around and faced Tate.

"Tate, you have to remember. He's still your child. And my brother. I think we should atleast show him respect by showing up."

"You know I don't consider him my son." Tate growled.

"I'm not going to fight with you. Come on, we won't stay a long time. You know that Frances would be thrilled to see Addie and Michael, and I know you want to see your sister."

Tate shrugged. "Fine. Only for an hour or two. C'mon, let's get this over with."

* * *

><p>At thirteen, it was clear Michael would be devastatingly handsome when he grew older. He had golden blonde hair, mist-blue eyes, and a wide smile. He knew he had a special power over people, and he was the most popular boy in school. Constance and Adelaide spoiled him rotten, and he knew he could get away with anything, even now.<p>

Violet and Addie chatted over ice cream, Constance smoked and Tate stared at his piece of cake, glancing nervously around the dining room. Frances sat in between Michael and Tate; she seemed unaware of her father's skittishness, she let Michael tickle her under the chin and she spoon-fed him a bite of ice cream. Violet smiled at them, and then shot a look at Tate.

"Don't you like the cake, Tate?" Addie asked her brother. "I made it myself."

Tate shrugged.

"I do, I mean, I'm just not very hungry right now." The truth was that seeing Michael and Frances so close made him sick. He pushed his plate towards Frances. "Here, honey, have the rest of my cake…"

"You shouldn't let the girl have that many sweets." Constance stubbed out her cigarette on the ashtray and took a swig of cognac. "She'll get horribly fat if you keep indulging her."

Violet kicked Tate's leg under the table to signal not to make a scene.

"She's a skinny little thing, Constance." Violet replied. "She can have the cake."

"Well, I can't tell you how to raise her." Constance turned her gaze to Tate. "I haven't heard you say one word to Michael. Today's his birthday, show a little love towards him."

Tate clenched his jaw.

"I know, I know. Happy birthday, I guess." Tate said. "There, are you happy now?"

Michael nodded. "Yeah." He picked up the knife left over from dinner and examined it, running his finger along the sharp edge. Tate tensed up seeing Michael with the knife. Michael then gazed at Violet. He smiled at her, his eyes gleaming. He then let his arm dangle, and he dropped the knife. His eyes still remained on Violet when Frances shrieked.

Tate and Violet both jumped up, and Violet scooped Frances in her arms. A cut had been made and a thin line of blood ran down her leg. Frances continued to shriek as Tate reached for Michael, but the boy stood up and missed him.

"Shh, Francie…Mama's here. Oh, oh. Constance, where's the bathroom, I'll-" Violet held her daughter and tried to take her mind off the pain.

"I can show you." Michael interjected. "I'm sorry, Frances. Guess I have to be more careful." Frances didn't respond, she buried her face in Violet's shoulder and whimpered. Michael led Violet up to the bathroom. Tate didn't move throughout the scene. His rage was quietly boiling.

"Frances will be fine, Tate. She's just a little spooked now. Accidents happen…" Addie put her arm around Tate's shoulders.

"I saw him….I saw the way he looked at Violet…He was going to hurt her, but no….He goes after Frances….sick little bitch…" Tate muttered through clenched teeth. Addie's brow furrowed as she looked at their mother.

Constance stood at the bottom of the stairs, another cigarette lit and in her mouth. Addie smiled at Tate, Constance hadn't heard a word of what Tate had said.

"What a child. Does she get into this much trouble at home? Tate?"

In the upstairs bathroom, Frances was squirming on the counter. She whimpered as Violet dabbed peroxide on the cut.

"It huuurts…" she moaned. Violet nodded in sympathy, and she thought back to when she was Frances' age, Vivien would always be there to console her and kiss her wounds better; it was one of the illusions of motherhood.

"I know, baby…but see? It's foaming, it's working, you won't get sick." Of course she wouldn't get sick, the cut would be healed within a matter of hours. But Frances couldn't understand that yet, they hadn't told her they were all dead.

"Momma…" Frances shook her head from side to side, biting her lip.

Violet stroked her daughter's head and applied a band-aid to the little wound on her leg. "You're gonna be okay, honey…" Violet smiled and began to hum, which turned into soft singing. "Swing low, sweet cherry, make it awful…It's your life, it's your party, it's so awful…"

"Excuse me, Violet, but it's _my_ party." Michael leaned in the thresh-hold of the bathroom. For his age, he was almost as tall as Violet. She picked up Frances and turned around to face him. Michael moved towards Violet. "Oh, and I'm sorry Frances. It doesn't look to bad, but I won't do it again." He smiled at her, and Frances swatted at him.

"Bad Mikey." She said.

"Frances! Ah, she forgives you, and thanks for showing me, but I've got to get back downstairs…" Violet gulped, she felt the same panic she'd felt down in the basement. Michael moved closer to her, Violet was almost bent backward on the sink.

"That's alright, I'll let you." He rested his hand on her arm. "You're very pretty, Violet…" He whispered.

"Michael, leave me alone, okay?" She shoved his hand from her body rather forcefully, and made her way out of the bathroom with Frances on her hip. She groaned and went down the stairs.

"How's the child doing?" Constance greeted Violet with whimsy in her voice. "You're such a good mother, Violet. I had my doubts at first, but you're better than I thought…"

Violet shrugged.

"She's a better mother than you are." Tate was at his wife's side, grin on his face.

"Tate, Tate, hush…" Addie ran her finger over her lips, _zip it, shut up._

"I'm sorry Constance, we better leave…" Violet tugged on Tate's shirt. "C'mon, baby, let's go…Addie, thank you, the cake was wonderful. Tell Mikey I said goodbye…" And with that, the family was out the door.

"Ma, where'd Violet go?" Michael called out, coming down the stairs.

"She left, along with your uncle and the baby. Ungrateful things, all of them." Constance snapped.

Michael sighed. _Damn. I'll have control one day, sister dearest…_

* * *

><p>Violet sat in the remnants of her father's office, flipping through the old psychology and neuroscience textbooks he'd left behind. She'd been on edge ever since the incident in the bathroom. Frances sat on the floor beside of her, playing with her toys. Fluff was flowing out of the rag-dolls where she'd repeatedly stabbed them with scissors, but Violet didn't feel like chastising her. She set her book down and patted Frances' head.<p>

"I'm sorry today had to turn out so crappy, sorry I'm so fucked up, sweetie…"

S'okay." Frances replied without looking in her direction. Violet sighed and got up.

"I'm going to bed, alright? You take good care of your daddy until he's ready for bed. Make sure he stays out of trouble."

Frances looked at her and smiled. Violet made her way up to the bedroom; Frances wouldn't get into much trouble by herself. She found Tate lounging on their bed, staring at the ceiling.

"…Oh." Violet whispered. "Tate?"

"Y'know, Violet, the only reason I didn't go back there and whip his ass was you, and Frances." Tate responded flatly. He sat up, patting the spot beside him. "C'mere, sit."

Violet sat down beside of him, not saying anything.

"Vi, you've been acting weird today. Not your normal weird, weird as in I'm concerned." Tate put his arm around her. "Now tell me what's up, baby…"

"I'm just having panic attacks, I don't know why."

"Bullshit. Did that thing hurt you?" Tate growled as he spoke. Violet raised her hand, as if about to slap him, so Tate shrunk back a little. "Damnit, I know…But he's evil, Vi, he's not real…"

Violet ignored him, and laid down on the bed.

"Don't give me that crap. Please, please…..God, Tate. I don't feel good, I'm tired. I just want some fucking rest…" Violet moaned. Tate got up patted her back.

"Alright, alright. I'll leave you be for a while. Just feel better soon, honey."

Violet fell prey to the spell of sleep almost instantly. Hours seemed to pass in a dark, empty void. She stirred and opened her eyes as she felt a rush of an icy draft hit her body. She shivered but shrugged it off. It was a warm night, so there was no way she should be cold. Violet closed her eyes again, but almost minutes later, she was awakened by what felt like hands stroking her. She smiled, thinking Tate was in an amorous mood. She craned her head to catch a glimpse of him sleeping next to her, resting on his side and turned away from her. She gulped as the cold she encountered in the basement enveloped her body once again. The stroking hands seemed to multiply, roughly squeezing her breasts, her waist, her thighs, scratching her skin. Panic consumed her, she couldn't move.

"_Tate._" She tried to say his name, to scream, do something, but she was incapable.

The invisible entity continued to attack her body. Tears ran down Violet's face. The hands scraped her thighs and pried them open. "_Help…_"

Violet felt something as cold as ice enter her. She whimpered and tried to push away, but the poltergeist only thrust into her harder. She began to cry. _"It hurts, it hurts…"_ It ripped her apart, filling her with pain.

The assault went on for a long time, Tate remained motionless as if in a state of catalepsy. Violet let out soundless screams as she tried to break away, but the entity held her down until Violet felt a cold river run through her….

Violet screamed and jolted upward, fully mobile now. Tate was immediately awakened by her screams and threw his arms around her.

"Violet! Vi, baby, wha-what, oh god…Vi, are you okay?" He asked.

"I don-I don't….Why didn't you try and defend me…? Tate…Oh my god, oh my god…." Violet let out a series of choking sobs. "It was horrible…Oh, oh no…"

"Violet, what happened?" Tate prodded her for an answer. "Violet, answer me…"

Violet set her head down on Tate's shoulder.

"That thing. Down in the basement….It wasn't a panic attack. Something wanted to hurt me, and it did…It got what it wanted."

"Baby, why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry you…" Violet sighed.

"Well, you did worry me, babe. But don't worry now, I'm here…I'll protect you, no matter what happens." Tate stroked her cheek and nuzzled her neck. He wrapped his arms around her and moved closer to her. "I love you, Violet…"

The ghost of a smile crossed Violet's lips. She slowly wrapped her arms around his shoulders as Tate's lips brushed her neck. She let out a soft moan. He licked her neck and Violet squirmed as warmth coursed through her. Such a relief from the icy nightmare hours earlier.

"Oh, oh…mmm…" Violet laid back down on the bed as Tate hovered over her, his hands smoothly sliding her clothes off. He kissed her passionately as Violet pulled him closer to her naked body. "Damn…where's…?"

"I put her in bed, don't fret, Frances won't hear us." Tate grinned and removed his underwear, freeing himself to mingle with Violet's skin. He kissed her breasts and sucked on the nipples, Violet arched her back in pleasure. "Violet, you're so beautiful…"

Violet smiled. She loved this side of Tate, the passionate and romantic side she enjoyed. Tate's fingers slid inside of her, making Violet moan. "Take me, do it…" Tate growled and thrust his fingers inside of her quicker, he could feel the heat building within her. He was ready; Tate withdrew his fingers and slid inside of Violet, groaning.

"You're so warm, Vi…" He sank into her as Violet's nails dug into his back.

"Oh, Tate…god, yes…." Violet's eyes squeezed shut as she allowed a wave of pleasure of overcome her. Tate kissed her again and she moaned into his mouth. "I love you."

"I love you too, Violet…" Tate sighed and thrust into her harder. "Oh, it's good, isn't it? Oh…ah, fuck…" Tate grunted as he felt his orgasm come. "Ahhhh…Vi, baby…" He shuddered and came, collapsing beside of her. Tate kissed her once again and took her in his arms.

"Thank you." Violet whispered.

"For what? Fucking you? No need to." Tate ruffled her hair and laughed.

"No, not that. Being here. I've missed this side of you…I mean, I love you regardless, crazy as fuck or not, but things like these…" She buried her face in his chest.

"I mean it, Violet. I'll never, ever let you go….Nothing will ever hurt you again, my love." Tate said. "Now, let's try and get some sleep, okay?"

Violet nodded and soon succumbed to a peaceful sleep, in Tate's arms.

When she awoke, the first thing Violet noticed was Tate sleeping beside her, smile on his face. She stroked his head and got up and walked into the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face. But, Violet soon felt a twinge in her stomach. She'd felt this before, it didn't alarm her too much as to what is was. Violet bit her lip. She knew it would happen sooner or later, that's just how the supernatural worked. She slipped back into the bedroom and gently nudged Tate.

"Tate, wake up…" She whispered. "Tate…"

"Hmm…? Morning, Vi…" He groaned.

"Baby." Violet sat down on the bed beside him. "Remember last night?"

"Yeah, what is it…?"

"Tate, I'm pregnant."

**Alright, alright, before you give me any shit, I know that pregnancies don't happen this quick! But leeway can be given to ghosts/creatures/ect. They're not human…And I know some of this may be OOC, but I've been sick for a while, flame away...ANYWAY, the next chapter will be the chapter that actually started this whole story…Tate's insanity rears it's head, and the return of some old "friends"….It'll prolly be up sometime late this month.**


	5. Voices

**The disclaimer is getting redundant. I own only Frances.**

Frances had just turned five years old, and she had questions. She was quite smart for a child, living or dead, and she was starting to question everything about her small world. She noticed her mother's pregnancy, and that didn't trouble her in the least bit. She knew how babies came to be and how they were born.

What she really had questions about were about her parents.

Frances was sitting on Violet's lap, soaking up what little time she had left before Violet's stomach got any larger. Violet stroked her daughter's blonde pixie cut. Tate was sitting beside her with an arm thrown around her shoulder. He was reading some verses of poetry aloud, the greats like Carroll and Bukowski, Frances was too intelligent for garden variety children's poems. The perfect All-American Adams Family.

"Ha, see baby? This guy was a great…They made a movie about him, y'know? Sadly, I never got to see it…" Tate showed Frances the cover of _Void of Course_, then flipped a page. "Look here. A poem about Kurt Cobain!"

"Yay." Frances replied. Violet smiled.

"I never took much interest in poetry…I was a little baby when that film came out. Something with basketball-"

"Mommy." Frances interrupted, poking her mother's shoulder. "Daddy."

Tate closed the book and looked at her.

"What is it, Franny?" He asked.

"Um…we're dead, right?" She asked, biting her lip. Tate scooted over a bit and placed Frances between him and Violet. "We can't go outside except to Grandma's…"

"Yes we are, darling. This house was cursed, the man who built this house didn't realize it was cursed ground, and had this house made for his wife. The original owners died and haunted this house. A few other people lived here, including Daddy." Violet spoke softly, carefully choosing her words.

"I was dead for seventeen years before I met your mother." Tate said. "We all died in this house. Me and a lot of other people."

Frances listened carefully, taking in every word they said, daring not to move.

"My mommy and daddy died, too. Your grandma died in childbirth, and your grandaddy died a few days later…"

"Was he sad about Grandmother and the baby?" Frances asked, letting out a whimper. _Babies, not baby._

"He was hung, it was an accident. He didn't do it himself. He was murdered, actually." Tate replied. "They were happy then, finally. Reunited in death. They crossed over into the afterlife after a while though, but Mommy stayed behind. With me."

Frances shook her head, understanding every word her parents spoke. But she still had more questions. She climbed up on Tate's knee.

"But…how did you die? You never said _how_…" Frances whispered.

Tate gulped, his brain automatically flying into panic mode.

"I think that's enough for now, Frances…I'll tell you sometime when you get older…" Tate muttered, bouncing his leg up and down slightly. Frances giggled.

"Well…" Violet said. "I took some pills, honey. I was very upset, and a friend gave me some pills to help me sleep. I was in such a state of distress, I took them all and I died in my sleep. I thought Daddy had saved me, but it wasn't until he showed me my corpse I realized I was dead."

"Aww…" Frances shook her head. "And Daddy…?"

"Frances, I r-really think that's enough." Tate stammered, looking away. "Violet, it's time for her bath, isn't it?"

Frances scowled. She wasn't about to go anywhere, forced or not.

"Daddy, it's still thirty minutes until then!" she whined. "Tell me!"

Tate looked at Violet out of the corner of his eye, and gulped. _I guess I could lie._

"Alright then, I give up. I'll tell you." Tate took a deep breath. "I died in a school shooting."

"Wow…" Frances whispered, her eyes widening.

"Yeah. Someone came to my school and started shooting at everybody. Fifteen people died. I was wounded, but I managed to escape. My family used to live here. So, I make it back to the house, but my stepfather wouldn't take me to the hospital-"

"Huh?"

"Some people don't like hospitals, honey." Violet interjected.

"-So I died in my bedroom, I bled to death. The other victims are buried together in a cemetery not too far from here." Tate continued. He noticed Frances tearing up, and he patted her cheek. "Aw, Frances, don't cry…Anyway, my mother and Aunt Addie moved next door, because it'd be too sad living here."

"Ohhh…." Frances wiped her eyes and nodded. "Alright. I guess that makes sense…"

"I think you've had enough excitement for one day, sweetie." Tate set Frances on her feet and ruffled her hair. "Vi, go run her bath, I need to be alone for a while…."

* * *

><p>The hours passed by, and Tate could not sleep. It was well past midnight. Tate roamed through the house, his mind racing. He stood in the doorway of Frances' room. He didn't dare go in, for he didn't want to wake her. Tate decided he could go back to his own bedroom, but he thought discussing his past with Violet would be futile.<p>

He sighed and turned around.

"I'm sorry, baby. I lied to you." he whispered. He turned his head to look back at her. Still sleeping. He left and went downstairs, where he stood in the foyer. It was completely dark, there were no lights on anywhere. Tate's head lowered and he closed his eyes.

_There was no school shooter. I killed all those people. I wasn't shot, I made it home but the drugs in my system killed me. I killed many other people in this house. I broke your mother's heart, and I raped her mother. I'm not worthy to be your father, I'm sorry. And Michael is your older brother._

"Everything's my fault…." _I'll take all the blame. _"I wish I could tell you, but I can't…I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

A cool draft came in, and Tate hunched his shoulders up. He could hear something like a sharp laugh. He turned around.

"Vi?" He asked. "Frances? Everything's okay…"

"Heh. Far from them, baby…." Tate's eyes widened as the disembodied voice registered itself in his mind.

"No. No…please…" He shut his eyes tight and hoped this was all in his head. "I can't do this again…"

He could feel long fingernails tap on his head.

"Come on, bastard. Open your eyes." Another one, male this time, flicking his tongue in his ear. "Miss us?"

Tate growled but did as he was told. The five people he'd killed in the library, the Dead Breakfast Club.

The bitch, the bastard, the freak, the creep and the dweeb; they were all bent on revenge. Determined to kill him.

"What the fuck…" Tate backed away slowly, but Kyle grabbed him and pulled him back in. "You little fucker…"

"It's been quite a while, Langdon. We just want to play a little…" Stephanie's hand pressed against his chest and ran down his stomach.

"Yeah, _play_." Kevin laughed and grabbed Tate's chin, squeezing the jaw. "Eh, you got a real cutie for a kid….You mind if I keep Frankie for my own?"

Tate ripped away from him, but he stumbled and fell onto his knees. Chloe smirked and stood over him.

"Vi-!" Tate tried to yell, but her hand smashed over his mouth.

"You stay right where you are. This'll be fun." she said. "Now, one of you get the brat."

Frances didn't awake, but she did twist around in her sleep. Tate groaned. Kyle had a firm grasp on Tate's arms, which were twisted behind his back. Stephanie had Kevin's knife pressed against Tate's throat. Amir and Kevin took turns shoving Frances into each others arms.

Chloe remained in front of Tate, arms crossed. The smirk still remained on her face.

"Alright, you have two options here, Tate." Chloe hissed. "You be good and don't try to do anything, we'll be nice and let Frances live. Or you _do_ try something, and we kill Frances. Which option?"

Frances' sleeping body contorted and her eyelids fluttered, opening. She yawned and blinked, her vision still hazy with sleep.

"It's okay, Franny. It's alright." Tate said. "Daddy won't let them hurt you…"

Kyle twisted Tate's left arm harder, making him cry out in pain.

"Daddy…?" Frances whispered.

Stephanie took her free hand and struck Tate hard across the face.

"Shut up, you ass!" she shrieked. "How about a third option? If you don't comply, we're gonna kill your little bitch _and_ Frances. How's that, hmmm? You deserve every bit of this, you sick fuck…"

"Let me go! You can't, don't! She's pregnant…god, Vi…don't hurt them…" Tate was pleading for his ghost-life.

"Alright. Steph, you know what to do." Chloe said. "Kyle, keep holding him."

Tate growled as he felt the blade cut his skin. He kept his eyes focused on Stephanie. He grinned. Tate grabbed the knife from Stephanie and quickly shoved himself backwards into Kyle, which made him loosen his grip. Kyle stumbled backwards and lost his hold on the blonde.

"Shit!" Stephanie cried. Tate tried to run up the stairs but Kevin lunged at him, taking them both on the floor. Tate shoved him off, but Kyle pulled him up and punched him straight in the face. Blood poured from Tate's mouth and nose.

"You're never gonna win, you know that?" Chloe whispered. "So why don't you just give the fuck up?" She'd grabbed his hand, her nails were digging into his palm, making blood well up.

"Like I'm ever going too…" Tate laughed nervously, and some blood came out. Chloe shoved him down again. Tate shoved the knife into his wrist and drug it along the length of his arm. "Fuck every single one of you…"

Tate gazed up. He couldn't see Frances anymore. Where was she…?

Kevin snarled and smashed his boot into his stomach, hitting Tate's solar plexus. Tate's body convulsed as he struggled to breath. Tears streamed down his face.

They'd been close, but still failed. They'd have to wait another five years to attempt to kill him.

* * *

><p>Violet awoke to noises from downstairs. The first thing she noticed was that Tate wasn't in bed. She felt a nervous feeling in her gut. She went into the hallway, and the muffled noises seemed clearer, closer. Frances wasn't in her bedroom.<p>

Violet looked down into the foyer. Tate was laying on his side, a bloody mess.

"Tate!" she cried, hurrying down the stairs. "Tate! What on earth was going on…? Where's Frances?" Violet knelt down beside Tate, pulling his head onto her lap.

"I tried my best, Vi…" Tate mumbled. "They were gonna hurt Frances, hurt you…they want my blood. Still set on revenge…"

Violet looked bewildered.

"Who? What…Tate, you're not making any sense…oh god, all this blood…What did you do to yourself?"

Tate shook his head.

"They're still not done with me….They still want me dead…the people I killed."

"At Westfield? Oh no….Tate…" Violet bit her lower lip. "But…where's Frances…?"

"They had her, one of those bastards…they didn't hurt her, but they would have…I-I don't…" Tate moaned. He pulled himself up on his knees. "I'm sorry, Violet…"

"You're okay now, Tate. I love you. I'm here, I'm here…"

* * *

><p>Frances was safe outside. He'd set her out on the grass in the backyard, and he'd sat with her for a minute. She looked up at him. He didn't <em>look<em> bad.

He was actually quite nice.

"Aww, Frankie. Don't be upset…" He'd stroked her head. "I'm not going to hurt you. Hurt your daddy, maybe, but not you…"

Frances turned her head away. He sighed. There was the good possibility she would never remember this.

"I can only stay for a minute. Please don't be upset, baby."

Frances looked up at him. She focused on the mangled left side of his face. _Does that hurt?_

He stroked the scar on her cheek with his thumb.

"I wanted to stop Chloe from doing that, y'know…" He said. "Aw, what the hell, I'm just rambling…You're just a little kid…"

Frances gave him the ghost of a smile. He grinned and kissed her cheek.

"I gotta go now, Frankie-baby." he whispered. "You be good. I'll see you in a few years, maybe. Hopefully."

She didn't watch him leave. She curled up on her side in the wet grass, letting the morning dew soak into her nightgown.

* * *

><p>Morning came quickly. When Frances awoke, she was in her bed. Her mother was sitting on the side of her bed.<p>

"Hi, baby." Violet said. "Did you have a good sleep?"

Frances nodded. Violet pulled Frances to her side. "Honey, what were you doing outside last night? We found you outside…Did you get up and decide to walk around?"

Frances shrugged. Her memory was a blurry and sleep-clogged. Violet sighed.

"It's not good to get up out of bed, sweetheart. Daddy went a little crazy last night, and it scared me. You being gone scared me even more…"

"I'm sorry, Momma." Frances apologized and put her head on Violet's shoulder.

"It's alright, honey." Violet hugged her daughter. "Just don't get up any more without telling me or Daddy, okay?"

Frances nodded.

"Is Daddy okay?"

"He is, he's better. Would you like to tell him good morning?" Violet got up off the bed and headed for the door.

"In a minute, Momma." Frances replied. She'd noticed there was something in the pocket of her nightgown. She reached in and pulled it out. A tarnished silver ring with a onyx stone, much too big for her own small fingers.

_Pretty._

She smiled.

**Flames will be very much accepted for this chapter. The song that inspired this chapter was Jim Carroll's "Voices". This was in fact the original draft that started this entire story, actually. **

**Also, I have no idea if Kevin is a pedophile. He just has a crush, guys….**


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